The Cobweb City

The cob web city sticks to your skin as you pass through it jumbled strings on its corners are hustlers and men with wigs wearing worn heels, selling their wares Traffic moves slowly, like long crawling slugs eyes get accustomed to waves of heat, rising like dragons from the concrete streets where scents drift from food carts fill Old men linger near drug stores, smoking cigarettes and coughing the broke and lonely stop at every bar and chili parlor, trying to fill empty pockets with pennies, lifted off the floors sticking to the soles of society's shoes as a reminder, that young is old, when left to fend for themselves evil is a cold hand, never born from a gentle touch Gray is a constant color when life becomes motion, with unintended consequences, stopping long enough, to disappear into the city's web the people passing by see only shoulders and backs, leaning against graffiti walls, trying to stay out of the rain until locked doors open, at the shelter contest Just Down the Road